


His Living Room Angel

by StopitGerald



Series: Oneshots [3]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Gay Sex, Light Dom/sub, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, True Love, Unrequited Love, domestic sorta, god i love these boys ok, idk how to tag nsfw shit ok, mushy lovey smut stuff idk?, naegi tops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 18:03:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15345444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StopitGerald/pseuds/StopitGerald
Summary: Makoto Naegi has never been more in absolute, awe-inspiring, heart-pounding love with Byakuya Togami than he is right now.





	His Living Room Angel

**Author's Note:**

> ive got plot for the last chap of my angst fic aaaaaa i'm just really slow. schools been kicking my ass but ive got that 4.0 gpa yo B) for now have this,,, its the first smut ive ever written so b nice

“Ah, do that again-“

The pads of Byakuya’s lengthy, agile fingertips grate softly against the plush, tan skin of his boyfriend’s lithe curves. Those devilish hands sink lower and lower still to cup rounded hip bones, a comfortable hold in Makoto's straddling of him. He squeezes tender the flushed skin beneath lanky digits, the tip of index finger teases beneath the hem of Makoto's boxer shorts and presses down the curve of his ass ever so casually. Makoto does as he's asked, rolls those hips down ever so subtly to grind and press hot to the growing problem in Byakuya’s grey sweatpants. 

Makoto loves this, loves every second of the affection being poured unto him. These times spent with Byakuya, quiet, intimate days spent lazing in the living room, they’re all he’s ever wanted. And the man beneath him, perfect electric blues sealed shut, collarbone flushed pink hue, his cheeks matching with impending knowledge of what’s soon to come, is the love of his life.

Byakuya, ever a dear, squeezes harder the flesh underneath his fingers, urges Makoto to reward another grinding pass. He denies the request, rather, decides to rock back to let his ass, clothed in nothing but baby blue boxers, gyrate against the prominence of Byakuya’s hard-on.

“Mm,” His soft requiem, eyes flutter, “You might want to cease all this teasing.”

Byakuya warns him in a husky, smooth tone, leans in close to brush lips to his earlobe, nips the shell in sudden display of affectionate dominance, “Or I might have to take matters into my own hands.”

Makoto shudders, groans deeply with the utter sex in Byakuya’s voice, gravelly honey-smooth. The curtains are drawn to close, the TV silent because when the love of your life is urging you to grind on his dick, nothing on the channels seems interesting anymore.

These slothful afternoons usually lead to this, to slow, intimate hours of loving, and it leads on into the night, leaves them sore, yet never regretful, in the morning. Everything about it is so comfy, so adoring, endearing, and it’s so _Byakuya._

And he’s there, focused so unduly on every momentary, meaningless detail. It all flows together like a painting- his masterpiece, his opus. His hand strokes away curls and tangles of brunet fallen into hazel-gray eyes.

“I adore you.”

It’s so simple, hushed on murmuring breath. The deep, sexy voice has since fallen away for this declaration, replaced by whispering breaths teeming with emotion. And Makoto shudders harder than before because Byakuya’s not always the best with words, but when he is- he’s absolutely splendid.

It just makes the statement all the more special.

Makoto awards sweet sentiment with a hot kiss, pressing lightly panting mouths together. He dives in all the way, as if plunging into boiling water, and runs a small hand up an expanse of toned chest beneath where he is sitting on Byakuya’s abdomen, and nips his lower lip in tease. A tongue pushes to his, and it’s scorching and wet and oh-so sexy, he’s bitten to a bright white canine, mewls in response to the hurt, consequently moans to the pleasure when the indent of tooth on his lip is kissed in apology.

The grinding hasn’t ceased, circulations of his hips roughen with kisses and brushings of their equally stiff erections. Makoto pants a little harder, hums as he begins to crave what he knows to be on the near horizon.

Byakuya is staring, he notes, those shining powder pools fixate on every minute thing about Makoto, because he’s just so in love, it’s sickening. Little flyaway hairs perch atop his puff of chocolate curls, dancing in orange light cast around curtains edge and the way his cheeks flush rose, and begin to perspire. He’s all perfect, and he’s all his.

Makoto squeaks as he’s lifted from those anchoring hips with large, agile hands, and he understands the implication, tugs down sweatpants to reveal sharp hips, takes with them expensive boxers. His erection pops free from constraint, and Makoto is no dawdler. Byakuya seethes drool back behind his teeth, forces his eyes to stay open to participate in the delicious voyeurism as small fingers fondle his girth.

He leers eerily close, his lips a few moments, mere seconds, mere inches away from the head of Byakuya’s cock, and it takes the man all he has not to tangle both hands in brunet and push him the rest of the way. He throbs at the core at the very notion of that filthy little mouth working; having its way with him. Each up-down of Makoto’s hand awards he a soft huff of desire, of libidinous pleasure. Byakuya shifts to run his palm over the smooth of Makoto's cheek, his eyes flutter in their opposite’s meeting. The handjob’s nearly driven him to shreds, but Makoto knows what he's waiting for.

He lowers his head so slowly, achingly, agonizingly, he himself is so desperate for the hot, hot press of cock to his tongue that he squirms from where he now sits between two long pale legs. He squeezes again the taut shaft of his boyfriend’s dick, runs his thumb again and again down-up the most sensitive of spots, teases the head with a press of index finger ever so devilishly.

He allows the pink of his tongue to slip out, to press flat to the tip, and he revels and shudders with the low groan that resonates from Byakuya. His eyes are still sealed shut, no longer fluttering, fighting to stay open, his hand has migrated to the back of Makoto’s head, cupping and pressing him ever-so-softly forward, urging him to continue. His chest heaves with heavy breaths.

Makoto giggles, drinks it all up so delightfully because he just loves seeing Byakuya so completely undone underneath his touch. He makes for one last, long, tight stroke upshaft, and then kisses wet to the underside of his cock, teases his tongue out against rigid skin. He’s experienced with Byakuya, in the art of taking him whole. And It’s delectably, ostentatiously easy when he slips entire length into his mouth, works tongue and lips and sucks so desirably. And the huffs and groans from above have morphed to audible pants and deep, deep moans. The hand in his hair grips tighter, pulls fistfuls in bobbing motion, and Makoto obeys, enjoys in the lapping of precum off the head when he pulls off with a kiss. He knows only to continue for moments more, but takes rapid pleasure in his combinations of licking, kissing, nipping, and Byakuya is a gamepad and Makoto’s just solved the Konami Code.

No matter how Makoto enjoys the mewls now forcing their way out of Togami’s abashed lips, no matter how good it feels to handle him and know he’s the reason his dick throbs so desperately, he has other plans for the evening. He rocks his hips to again straddle, feels the wet press of Byakuya's saliva covered hard-on press to his thigh as he leans in as to join the fiery of their equally stiff stomachs. He brushes his hands up the soft, lean plateau of the bigger man's chest, drinking in every piece of his body, and wipes away salty beads of sweat.

“How about we-? mm-“

Byakuya is quick in cutting him off, he knows full well what the other boy has in mind. He rejoins their mouths, doesn’t mind the taste on Makoto’s lips from his former occupation, again asserts dominance in spite of what’s to come with the forcing of his tongue against its partner and the biting of soft, chapped, little lips.

All the while their kisses work into desperate, deep frenzy, Byakuya manages to inch down Makoto’s boxer shorts, and is presented with a break in the kiss to gasp gently as his sensitive skin exposes to the cooler air around him. The blond retracts from kissing hesitantly, would love to continue, but would love more to follow through with Makoto’s full plan. He gazes sultrily, half-lidded eyes and upturned lips, and grasps Makoto’s hand soft in his own. He pushes blister kissed lips to the tips of digits, slides his tongue over them wetly before pressing them into his mouth.

Makoto knows Byakuya has caught his drift now. He removes his hand slowly, whimpers at the strand of saliva connecting fingertip to plumped lips, he could watch Byakuya suck his fingers for hours, but he's sure what's coming is going to be much more fun for the both of them. He shifts to pull their garments the rest of the way off, flings them to the floor aside the couch. He rocks hips forward for good measure, gently brushes their aligned cocks and shivers with the heat against his own. A moan spills from Byakuya’s lips, his eyes fall shut again.

He teases wet fingers about his boyfriend’s throbbing cock, fondles his balls and inches hot into his entrance with slicked up fingers.

The blond seethes with the initial press, huffs and wiggles his hips, and then groans as he pushes digits fully in. His pants replace with little moaning mewls of “ah-ah-ah-“ and Makoto adores it, how good he feels wrapped around his fingers, so tight as he adjusts to the protrusion. Byakuya doesn’t struggle, simply melts in the feeling. He loves to get as much as he loves to give.

The fingering doesn’t last long, Makoto kisses him silly all the while, teeth and tongue and everything in between. They’re one being, joined in the heat of sex and the blinding passion of long-time love. 

“Think you’re- mm- ready?”

His chopped question, butchered with chaste pecks and entangling kisses, slaughtered with every curl of fingers deep inside Byakuya’s heat, lingers in the air. The blond huffs out one last time, groans and arches his back with a perfect curl and spread of those digits inside him.

“Are You?”

He smirks, sly shroud migrates into those daunting bright blues, tantalizes Makoto to squirming, rubs his legs together for friction he so desperately, needily begs for. His arms wrap around Makoto’s neck as he switches himself to sit, knocks their foreheads together playfully when they come close to share a kiss, and he smiles, smiles, and it’s chocolate vanilla strawberry sundae, because Makoto just fucking loves ice cream- but no no never as much as he loves the stud beneath his touch.

And he tries to chuckle, amused with the sexy raise of eyebrows following, but is cut off by his own lavish moan, his head falls back to rag doll when Byakuya suddenly has his hand wrapped around his stiff cock. He’s been thoroughly neglected up until now, dripping, throbbing. Byakuya strokes the length a few times, hand wet with saliva and precum, slicks up and down. He revels in the soft ‘ohhh- mm baby!’ As he works his lover into an antsy rutting of hips forward for more, more.

In a sudden change of pace, Byakuya releases the warm cock in his hand to plop back against the arm of the couch abruptly, Makoto can’t help but whine as he watches the other relax. The man underneath him gazes up in anticipation, his perfect little waiting face melts the smaller boy upon him. He stares down at him blankly for a moment, his head a haze from the up-downs of the glorious handjob he’d been receiving mere seconds ago. 

“Oh yea,”

Makoto murmurs bluntly, smiling dopily and letting himself fall forward a bit to brace himself on either side of Byakuya’s head, framing his splayed blond locks. Bright blues follow his every movement as he hikes up two long, fair legs. Byakuya hooks his ankles behind the small of Makoto’s back, anchoring himself to his lover. And he leans in so close, breaths out heavy pant as he nips at his swollen lips, and kisses him gently. Its so kitten soft, puppy love, so gentle and ravishing and- oh

Makoto presses the head of his slick cock to Byakuya’s entrance, groans and whimpers with the first press into tightness. 

“Ah- oh god,”

Byakuya seethes through tight, pearly teeth, his eyes roll back to expose the whites as he groans out barely audible profanities. His chest heaves once, tries to stabilize and fails with Makoto’s little buck forward to entice him and he’s gasping, fingernails leave angry crescent moons on shoulder blades. He breaks the adoration of licks and kisses along the blond’s jaw as he fully sheaths himself, humming deeply and taking quick little breaths.

“Mm- fuck— move!”

He barks the command exasperatedly, fed up with the pure, unadulterated wanting that spasms through him. Makoto snaps to attention, eyes wide hazel saucers and he moans huskily as he shifts backward, pulls out to the very head, and he’s raucous in his sudden take sharp hold of Byakuya’s hips, slams forward to meet hip bones and plush ass with rough force. 

He’s rewarded dearly for the hot start, breathing moans of his name echo through the living room, Byakuya’s eyes seal shut, his teeth clamp together to try and yet cannot fend off the groans of ‘oh yes- fuck me, Makoto!’ 

And The passion grows, as does the intensity of his thrusts, sharp notes in and out of tight, hot heat, both- or rather one- the two headed being of sex and love and- oh god, whatever! Grunts and gasps and moans and cries from Makoto’s lips as he tightens his hold on the joints of his lover’s hips. 

Each thrust shakes the couch they reside on, scoots it further to the right of the living room. Makoto kisses senseless, sloppy, and soaking at jawline, neck, ear, mouth, and continues his steady rhythm of fuck, pulls out to the tip and quickly rams forward, cries mantras of his boyfriend’s name all the while.

Byakuya is quieter, huffs like he’s a life-long smoker as he takes what he’s being blessed with. He moans and arches his back up off the couch, the curve of his vertebrae reach for the ceiling above. One of his hands curves the edge of Makoto’s cheekbone, holding his face as they kiss, kiss, kiss, mingling hot breaths and vulgar cries. 

Byakuya’s erection, now the neglected, scrapes their joined stomachs, jostles with every mind-numbing, leg quaking thrust. And he’s so lost in the pounding of cock betwixt his legs that he’d forgotten, but he moves blearily his free hand, once scrabbling for purchase on the couch cushions, and grips himself tight, squeezes the blistering flesh and strokes easy, quick, and tight. 

Makoto, reminded of his lover’s need, switches the scorching, pounding notes of his cock all to the hilt to slower, rougher rolls of hips forward, allows him space to wrap his hand around Byakuya’s, aiding him in the tight hold of strokes up and down his aching cock.

“I’m so close- mm baby, I-“

Makoto spews off into jibberish, the thrusts deeper, sloppier, every time he pushes forward Byakuya can feel his legs shake, he won’t be able to walk to the bedroom, but, mmm, god, sleeping on the couch isn’t so bad. Fingernails drag long, red lines down once-unscarred back- He just groans, Makoto’s name comes out in huffs, broken into the three tiny syllables, with each pound into his heat and each pass of thumb over the head of his cock, a new syllable falls out of his swollen, sticky lips.

“mm, Byakuya…”

Makoto finishes with one final, rough, pound to completely sheath himself and the hands on his hips quake, fingers slip on sweaty skin. Byakuya can feel every bit of the cum that fills him up, and he knots his fingers in his hair and groans, writhes and seethes with the pleasure of such vulgar things. 

“mmm- Love you.”

In one note, he pulls out, and dual groans sound at the loss of the familiar feeling of being one. The hand on his cock has slowed, but it doesn’t matter now, just one- two- 

“‘Mm- ha, Love you too-“

He chokes out as he finishes, cums hot and thick over both his and Makoto's hands, fire bursts in his eyes, he’s one last final strain to hug Makoto close, fingernails leave deep impression, long, long, red scratches down fragile, pallid backbones before he releases, legs are shaking, shaking, and a hand on his thigh stills them. 

Makoto slumps onto his chest, closes his eyes and relaxes. Their stomachs- and Byakuya’s ass- is slick with cum, but he supposes they can wash up later. He runs fingers through tufts of brunet, kisses gentle a forehead and they curl together, soft little breaths of post-coition mingle as they drift. 


End file.
